her breasts reminded him of olives
dipped in gin, slightly intoxicating
with nipples like slippery red peppers
he liked to suck,
and she almost laughed out loud.
she did not tell him, a part of him
reminded her of dolphins,
warm and rubbery to touch
until it drew back into its wrinkled sleeve,
a turtle slipping its neck into a shell.
After she ceased being as
conjoined as a rib to Adam,
she sipped coffee,
glad to have crossed that Rubicon
without having fallen or been pushed into it
and went about her day, full of
the sacred wisdom of carnal knowledge.
Lourdes Tutaine-Garcia is an American citizen of Cuban birth. She has written and published many poems and considerably fewer novels. In 2018, BestLit Review selected her as one of the best prose writers in midcoast Maine, where she lives. Currently, she is out in the world capturing words with her butterfly net.